


In His Chains

by raregloves



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Beating, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Omega Sherlock, POV Sherlock Holmes, PWP, Set during TEH, Sibling Incest, This is consensual don't let the summary fool you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raregloves/pseuds/raregloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, held captive, goes into heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Chains

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Mylock, Omegaverse please! Cause there just isn't enough incest omegaverse!

Every single part of Sherlocks body was aching. His wrists chaffed where they rubbed against the manacles holding him up, and his shoulders felt ready to dislocate out of sheer desperation. 

Both feelings were insignificant, however, compared to the pain in his back. His captor (cheating wife, sadist…) had beaten Sherlock until his skin opened up. By his reckoning at least one rib was broken. He could smell his own blood in the air. 

There was, however, one small blessing: his tormentor was a beta, and could not tell that Sherlock had gone into heat.

Every time Sherlock moved (trying to keep himself upright, trying to brace himself against another beating) he could feel the increasing slickness in his arse. Even the overwhelming pain of his back was starting to fade. 

That was the only silver lining Sherlock could see. The deeper into heat he sunk, the less he would hurt, his bodies increasing arousal clogging and confusing his pain receptors. 

‘You awake?’ 

His captor kicked his feet out from under him and Sherlock cried out, the pain in his shoulders doubling. The manacles forced him onto his tiptoes, prevented him from standing comfortably without straining his shoulders. 

‘Oi! You not die yet, now,’ his captor said in broken English. ‘Terrorist.’ 

Sherlock shook his head in silent denial, earning himself another blow with the metal pipe. It came down on his side with a fleshy thud. The chains clinked angrily as Sherlock jerked sideways. 

It hadn’t hurt as much as it should’ve, though. He felt warm liquid dribble down the inside of his thigh. How long would it be before an alpha smelt him? There had to be one in the building, somewhere…

The thought of being fucked made Sherlock groan. Misinterpreting the noise, his captor laughed. 

Sherlock cursed the man internally, wondering if he should tell him about his wife. It would be exactly what the man deserved. But to unleash such a man on his wife-

The pipe came down again, just underneath his shoulders. Sherlock felt the edge of the metal rip the skin over his shoulder blade. He wondered if it’d scar. It didn’t seem to matter, though. He found it hard to focus. His skin was starting to feel hot, oversensitive.

‘Oh god,’ Sherlock said. ‘Oh god…’ 

His arse clenched around nothing. Sherlock grit his teeth, determined not to give his captor any clue to the reality of the situation. He was sure whatever clean, unharmed skin remained to him was flushing a bright pink. 

An alpha would smell him, Sherlock thought. An alpha would come and fuck him, delighted by his good luck. It would be brutal. He tried not to want it, tried not to picture a thick cock knotting him, how good it would feel to have something (anything) in him. 

His captor was speaking into his phone. Sherlock didn’t remember hearing it ring. He opened his mouth to say something about the mans wife but found that he couldn’t. The only noise he felt able to make was a moan.

Alpha, alpha, he needed an alpha. His oily hair felt disgusting to his oversensitive skin. He just needed a fuck. 

‘…luck,’ his captor was saying. ‘Higher ups wanting you. Be good for them.’ 

More people were coming? The thought managed to pierce through the haze in Sherlocks mind. One of them would be an alpha, surely, finally… 

The door to the cell opened. Sherlock raised his nose, flaring his nostrils, and yes, thank Christ, there was an alpha in the doorway, somebody to smell him and fuck him and make it all go away.

He heard a slight murmur of surprise. Understandable, Sherlock supposed, as he breathed in and in, trying to fill his lungs. The alpha smelt sharp and clean, with a raw male scent that had Sherlock twisting in his chains. He felt his arse clench again and again and his cock harden in his pants at the smell. He knew the seat of his trousers would be visibly soaked by now. Yet it was an oddly familiar scent, actually. 

‘Sherlock?’ 

His head snapped up at the well-known voice. Mycroft was standing in front of him wearing a ridiculous hat and jacket. But his eyes were dark with arousal and his long, pointed nose was twitching. 

‘Mycroft,’ Sherlock rasped out. ‘Took your time.’ 

‘This is most inconvenient,’ Mycroft said, sounding far from annoyed. ‘There are two other alphas in this building and another three on the plane waiting to take you back to London. I can’t let you near them like this.’ 

‘You know- what to do, then-’ Sherlock managed. ‘I won’t- complain. Please-’ 

‘Oh, very well,’ Mycroft sighed. ‘I’ll let them know to expect a delay.’ 

He pulled a phone from his pocket and fired off a text. Sherlock parted his legs as best he could on his tiptoes while Mycroft pulled off his hat and jacket, looking for a clean bit of floor to rest them on. Sherlocks eyes went to his brothers groin, where his cock was making an obvious attempt to rip through the front of his trousers.

‘Hurry up,’ Sherlock hissed. ‘ _Please_ , Mycroft.’ 

‘Your back,’ Mycroft said, his voice thick with the effort of getting the words out properly, ‘is it…?’ 

‘I’ll manage, Mycroft. _Christ_.’ 

Mycroft pulled off his gloves, throwing them so that they landed on his jacket. Sherlock could feel himself dripping between onto the floor. He pulled Sherlocks trousers down with one hard jerk. The cool air hit Sherlocks overheated arse, shocking him. 

‘You’re already so wet,’ Mycroft said. He pushed one warm finger in with ease and Sherlock shouted out, trying to press backwards. It wasn’t nearly enough. 

‘When did you last take a bath? Cut your hair? Filthy.’

Mycroft added another finger, stroking Sherlock from the inside with slow, assertive fingers. Sherlock felt his cock twitch, but Mycroft ignored it entirely, and he couldn’t give himself relief with his arms chained to the walls. 

Mycrofts fingers slipped out of him and Sherlock moaned, furious. He heard Mycrofts zipper, and the rustle of his expensive trousers. Sherlock inhaled the scent of his brother, the intoxicating aroma of alpha, stronger now that Mycrofts cock was free. 

‘Mycroft-’ 

He felt the thick head of Mycrofts cock press against his weeping hole. Sherlock gasped, pressing back, eyes slamming shut. The head stretched him as he’d so desperately needed, opening his arse wide.

Sherlock yanked at his chains and pushed back, his arse swallowing the head of Mycroft cock and making him gasp, his hands coming to hold Sherlocks hips. He slid inside easily, with a wet noise that sounded loud in the otherwise silence cell. 

Mycroft swore loudly and Sherlock felt a prickle of excitement, at the sound of his brothers plummy voice speaking words that’d been forbidden to them as children.

Sherlock spread his legs wider, suddenly glad for the chains. He felt sure he would’ve fallen, otherwise, to his hands and knees. The air seemed to taste of Mycroft, his smell permeating everything. 

‘Beg me,’ Mycroft breathed. ‘Beg me.’ 

He didn’t have to ask twice. 

‘Please, Mycroft,’ Sherlock whined. ‘Please, I w-want your cock. Fuck me, don’t j-just stand there, I’m _begging_ you. Have mercy.’ 

‘Fuck,’ Mycroft said. His began to thrust into Sherlock, his hips snapping forward. Sherlock fell, his feet scraping against the rough concrete floor. Mycrofts hands tightened on his hips, pulling him close, keeping him from breaking his shoulders. 

His skin felt as if it were on fire. Sherlock could feel his heart hammering inside his chest. Mycrofts cock was sliding over a sweet spot inside of him, forcing his eyes shut, making his knees shake. 

‘Deeper,’ he managed. 

Mycroft obliged, bending Sherlock slightly. His shoulders ached but he ignored it, his mind and body consumed as Mycroft bent him over, his cock slipping deeper and deeper into him, closer and closer… 

‘ _Oh…_ ’ Sherlock cried out. ‘Oh, there…’ 

He felt Mycrofts cock slip forwards, just enough- 

Sherlock came, his arse clenching down around Mycrofts cock like a vice, his entire body shaking with the force of it. He was oblivious to the sweat on his face, the blood on his back, the pain in his shoulders. Nothing else mattered apart from his cock which, entirely untouched, was twitching and spurting his come across the room. 

Mycroft was trapped now, his cock sealed deep within Sherlocks arse. They shook together for a moment, Sherlock panting. Then, without warning, Mycroft came, his seed filling Sherlock, who moaned as his body was finally, perfectly filled. 

Then they waited. Mycroft rubbed his hands over Sherlocks unharmed skin, trying to soothe his battered muscles. Sherlock sighed at his touch, his arse still occasionally twitching around the cock deep within it, his muscles not yet willing to release him.

‘I’ll need the pill,’ Sherlock said eventually. ‘Right away.’

‘Anthea has one,’ Mycroft said. ‘Don’t worry.’ 

Sherlock exhaled, and as he did so his internal muscles relented. Mycroft slipped free with a rude sound and Sherlock winced. Mycroft wiped himself off, then at once moved to Sherlocks wrists. He unhooked the manacles and winced at the raw state of Sherlocks skin. 

‘Lower your arms very, very slowly,’ Mycroft instructed. ‘Focus on that while I dress you. We need to leave as soon as possible.’ 

Sherlock nodded. The pain was returning in stages- slight abrasions, aching muscles, twister shoulders, open wounds. Mycroft pulled Sherlocks trousers back on and draped a jacket around his shoulders. 

‘Come on, brother dear,’ he said. ‘Time to go home.’

**Author's Note:**

> You can send me a prompt on my tumblr- I love rare pair fic :)
> 
> raregloves.tumblr.com


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